


Win-win

by YourFavoriteRobot



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Classic Who, Fifth Doctor Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourFavoriteRobot/pseuds/YourFavoriteRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor watches the Master sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win-win

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Zaftiq for Beta

  


"Trapped," the Doctor sighed as he examined the pile of rock that had fallen in behind them, blocking the way out of the cave. He placed a hand against the newly formed wall, thinking of his friends and his TARDIS on the other side. They would be safe, he was certain. The captain of the rebellion would see to everything and the force of the explosion had been blunted so that the cave-in was probably the worst of it. Resourceful as he was, he doubted he could shift several tonnes of rock with the odds and ends in his pockets and the power of positive thinking. There was little to do but wait for rescue.

A groan from behind made him turn. The Master lay on the ground face up and covered in a light layer of grey dust, knocked out during the cave-in as he ran on the Doctor’s heels from the very destruction he had sought to control. The Master was beginning to stir so the Doctor walked over to examine him. He leaned over him for a moment, watching his defeated enemy's eyelids flutter before squatting down, sitting on his heels beside him.

To the Doctor’s surprise, his foe looked almost sweet unconscious. With no pressing danger and no chance of escape until he was dug out from the outside, he let himself look the man over properly. He was very handsome, the Doctor had to admit, but he always had been. The Master had a certain similarity to his looks in every regeneration the Doctor had seen. He had always wondered why that was. He found it especially surprising now when the Master so obviously looked like the former owner of this body. The Doctor wonder if he had picked Tremas out on those grounds, or if it was just a happy coincidence. Giving it more thought, he found the idea slightly morbid and put it neatly out of his mind.

The Master sniffed a bit in his sleep and the Doctor brushed some of the dust from the Master's cheek and forehead, chuckling quietly as he did. The adventure was done; they had come against each other once more and given their all. Slow calculation and teasing deception building to a destructive, kinetic end. Then they were together post denouement in this cool, quiet seclusion. And despite the fact that the man who lay exhausted on the ground had visited violence and near death upon him only minutes ago, he couldn’t help a swell of overwhelming fondness building in his chest.

The Doctor began to right the strands of the Master’s hair that had fallen out of place and the Master tipped his head slightly into the touch. The Doctor paused for a moment ready to jerk the hand away and feign that he had been checking for injury. The rush of guilt made him question his feelings at the moment.

The simple fact was that he had missed him, deeply so. It wasn’t a thing he felt so keenly at the time. His last self had little time for sentiment. But now, when he thought back on a time without this ridiculous, bumbling, dear, brilliant fool of a man in his life, it made him ache. He never thought about it much while running around the universe, but he loved knowing the Master might show up any moment with some ridiculous scheme constructed just for him--a mad gift from a mad man. The Doctor leaned down and kissed the Master’s forehead and came a way with a smudge of dirt on his cheek and chin.

So much of everything that they shared was in games and teasing, fighting and loving in the same stroke. Somehow it had always blended seamlessly so that neither was ever left wanting for either affection or stimulation. But he had thought that it was over. He had mourned. After seeing what had became of the Master, he could only wish for the man he loved to find peace in death. The twisted remains were no longer him, just a shell of anger and pain. He shuddered to think of him like that. The Doctor reached out to touch the Master’s cheek and then placed a light fingertip to his full mouth to remind himself it was all in the past. The Doctor sighed. What a cost, but what was done was done. This body would only have had a scant few days of existence left. Destruction at such a scale was a fixed issue; Time used Time Lords as often as they used her and the Doctor knew this too well.

And in the end, what a gift. What a wonderful thing to have emerged from the devastation, the resurrection of his dearest friend. That it had come at such a cost made him think he ought to treasure every single moment. Things were different now, he could not deny it. They were older, even slightly wiser, and maybe they needed more than games.

This time when the Master stirred he made no attempt to move away and cover his interest. The Doctor sat full on the ground and leaned into kiss his lips softly and then laid his head on the Master’s chest to listen to the strong, steady single beat. The rhythm lulled him into a peaceful trance and as the Master slowly opened his eyes, the Doctor himself was just beginning to doze.

The Master almost shoved the foreign weight from his chest before he realised what it was. He lay there a moment trying to regain his bearings but was wholly unable to think with the Doctor cuddled against him. He worked his mouth a few times, struggling against a dry throat, until he finally managed to speak.

“Did I win?” He asked almost innocently, surprised out of any theatrics.

“You know,” the Doctor smiled into soft velvet, “I rather think you did.”


End file.
